CHAPTER VIII.

RENFRO GETS A SHOCK.

Not until he was in Miss Turpin’s class did Renfro have an opportunity to hear anything about the kidnaping of Helen Wier, otherwise than that which had been in the morning newspaper. And in them had been the statement that all clues offered by members of the detective force and members of the Wier family had been followed down and led to nothing.

But in Miss Turpin’s class a late comer to school brought more news. Judge Wier had received a letter that morning in the first mail. It was just a note written by Helen herself, in her girlish scrawl. She was well she said and comfortable. That was all.

But the note had been mailed in a city mail box directly across the street from where Judge Wier lived. That gave the detectives a new clue. They were--

And then Renfro remembered his clue--the missing eyebrows. With great deliberation last night he had chosen his hiding place--between the case and the pillow itself. But his father had called him late and he had forgotten all about his valuable possessions.

At the close of the recitations he went to the dean, obtained permission to use her private phone and slipped alone into her inner office. He talked in a very low tone. First he called his home number. And then he almost shouted over his own good fortune. Mary had answered the call.

“Don’t talk, Mary,” he cautioned, “don’t say anything which would give me away. It’s Hooch. Has anybody made up my bed yet?”

Mary herself had--just a little while before.

“Then you didn’t bother them--my clues,” he almost implored. “You know what I mean Mary--those eye--eye--you know.”

Mary knew.

Then Renfro told her where he had put them. No, Mary hadn’t seen them, but if he would wait she would run up stairs and see if she could find them. A long wait followed during which Renfro counted several hundred digits to make the time hurry and then he heard Mary’s voice once more.

It was terrible--full of tears, of fear and of grief. They were gone--Renfro’s leading clues. She had shook his pillows, quite as was her usual custom, had swept his floor and then and--

The rest of her speech was lost. Renfro had dashed the receiver back onto the hook, slipped as fast as he could to his cloak room, donned his cap and gloves and was down at the principal’s office. His white face, his dark staring horror stricken eyes gave proof to his statement that he was sick and he was excused for the rest of the morning.

Darting across streets in front of automobiles, down alleys thru which he had not been in months, panting, puffing, and never stopping, Renfro rushed into his own back gate, up the walk and into the kitchen where Mary was weeping copiously. A few questions from him, a few answers from her and they were both down in the basement, right into the furnace room.

No, Mary didn’t remember where she had emptied the sweeper that morning. She usually did but this morning she had been busy thinking out excuses she could find for going out to Captain Pete’s and discovering the condition of the old hunter’s eyebrows. She sobbed audibly while she talked. Mrs. Horn had gone up town to a sale she informed Renfro and she could cry loud and get all the comfort she wanted out of so doing.

Together they searched thru the trash pile, then all over the basement floor, and all the way up and down the dark stairway. And then Mary remembered the garden plot. The ash man had asked her to empty her sweepings on the ash pile. He often found pins and needles and interesting knick knacks for his little girl in people’s ash piles.

And out there Renfro found one folded piece of paper and Mary the other. They flew into each others arms. Back in the kitchen Mary found her family Bible and made room in it for Renfro to place the precious possessions along with the bit of her baby hair and one bridesmaid’s dress and her long ago admirer’s picture. Mary informed him that she was going to buy some black paper, some white paint and make a reproduction of the eyebrows for their everyday use in hunting down clues.

“The detective book said to make copies of everything you find in regard to a crime,” she offered the proof of the wisdom of her suggestion.

“Well you guard your Bible, Mary dear, and wait a little while,” Hooch begged her, now restored to health again and ready to return to school.

It was Jimmie Noel who at noon suggested to Renfro that he go see his route manager for suggestions about securing his new subscribers. “He’s an old hand,” he advised, “and he can give you pointers which will save you half of your energy.”

Renfro hesitated. That might mean a loss of time and he had determined to go out to both Captain Pete’s and the big house that night. Still “The Globe” was his business and a fellow’s own business came first. Besides his father had given him permission to stay out late.

Renfro found Morrison rushing and fuming. Warren, route manager of the north side, had boasted that his boys were going to win the most turkeys. “I can’t have that,” Morrison was urging two of his best carriers whom he had summoned in to act in an emergency. “Fellows, this is just like a big basket ball game. Are you going to let your enemy’s team beat you without a struggle?”

Then he saw Renfro, “Hello, Hooch Horn,” he said genially, “How can I help you, old man?”

Renfro’s list of twenty new subscribers went onto the counter in front of Morrison. “Two turkeys won already,” he smiled. “And I thought perhaps you could give me some suggestions on how to win four more.”

A smile spread over Morrison’s face and then it stopped suddenly as he examined the list of names. “Ward’s no good,” he ejaculated. “Didn’t Andy tell you? He beat him out of a bill. And Newkirk did the same and that Patterson woman--”

“But they all paid in advance,” Renfro interrupted.

Morrison stared at him. “They did!” he half shouted and drew his hand across his forehead. “They did! Well how in the thunder did you get money out of them before they got the paper? Boy, you must have a wonderful line of talk.”

Arm in arm he and Renfro walked to the door. “Go to it, Hooch,” was Morrison’s last advice, “win these turkeys and I’ll put up the best feed in any hotel you choose. The south side always does take the prizes. But for Old Grief to win first honors, Hooch, that would be the surprise of the Globe during the sixty years it has been a paper.”

“Say,” he called Renfro back, “Bruce said you had guts, when he hired you.”

Renfro remembered that statement of Bruce’s as he worked against great obstacles for subscribers that afternoon. But he stuck, tho there seemed nothing but obstacles in front of him and finally counted out his five new names. “Turkey number three,” he laughed and pulled out his watch.

Seven-thirty o’clock and a heavy darkness everywhere. The street lights were dim tonight and there was almost no one out on East Washington. Judge Wier’s house had been guarded by a detective, not because of the discovery of a new clue but Mrs. Wier’s nerves from the morning’s note had demanded one.

At the little corner grocery Renfro bought a hot dog sandwich and some weak tea and ate and drank standing close to the door. No one passed except a colored woman carrying home her “wash.” Out on the street he hurried down toward the big house and the shack beyond.

He stumbled thru the underbrush at the side of the road, over the rail fence and into the lane between the two orchards. A dark form loomed before him. He held his breath and stood still. A low sniff came to him, a joyous bark and Lang Tammy was against him, his big shaggy body almost overturning Renfro. He grabbed one end of the bag and the usual game of pulling followed.

“Like to play, old fellow?” Renfro patted his head. “Next time, old boy, I’ll bring you a hot dog if I have to go without one myself.”

While he talked to the dog he caught a glimmer of light in the big house, up on the second floor at the right side in the dormer window where there were still shutters. It didn’t linger there long and when it went out the whole house was left in darkness. Nor was it lighted again.

Renfro turned his back on the big house and stumbled across the field toward the shack. The orchard was desolate and rocky with a few remnants of trees which never bore but in the darkness they were formidable looking and their roots stumbling blocks.

After the orchard came the lane again and then the open space around the shack. A gleam of light from the window told Renfro that Captain Pete was at home. Before he crossed to the door Renfro ordered Lang Tammy “to go home” and after a little the big dog slouched away.

“He’s been taught to mind all right,” Renfro watched the big creature now an abject object of fear, slinking down the lane, “and he’s been taught thru terrible cruelty.”

Captain Pete answered the knock. His shaggy head was uncovered and he knitted his heavy white eyebrows all of which were intact. No, he did not have any rabbits. The Elks had come out that afternoon and gotten all he had for a big supper they were having. But he would have some the next day for Renfro.

Then Renfro grew a bit bold. “Sometimes, Captain Pete,” he said quietly, “I know your old house is haunted or something, for I’ve seen lights in it. Now tonight--”

Captain Pete’s head shook a vigorous denial. “There wasn’t anybody there,” he said. Why it was so full of wide open cracks that nobody couldn’t stay there. And most of the tin roof was off by this time.

“Captain Pete may be innocent,” Renfro drawled, back on the road again, “but he’s sure not ignorant.”